


yeah, okay

by guybuddyfriend



Category: South Park
Genre: Bottom Stan, F/M, M/M, Top Kyle, all wendys are best wendy wendy is the best, anyway i hope you like it its p gay and self-indulgent ngl, anyway they fuk, bc im a homo, best kyle, best stan, best wendy, body fluids, genderfluid wendy, i have never felt more dedicated to finishing a fic before in my life, its an experimental piece, kyles dumb lol, o shit lol pegging, regular wendy tho, the experiment was 'will they fuk', the results imply the affirmative, too - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guybuddyfriend/pseuds/guybuddyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>wendy's upset but then they're not anymore bc they get dicked down lmao</p>
            </blockquote>





	yeah, okay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarcoBodtsChickenNuggets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcoBodtsChickenNuggets/gifts).



> here it is, friend

Kyle almost cracks his head on the shower curtain rod when he hears his bedroom door _slam_ into the wall. Cool white tiles almost send him flying as he rips the towel off the bar and shoves out of his bathroom, into the _cold cold cold fuck cold_ air of his bedroom. He’s tucking the stupid fucking towel into his hip and the water is still running in the shower when he looks up with brows furrowed monstrously and mouth open, ready to bark an order to leave or an enraged reprimand. Everything stills when his eyes hit a much lighter, hazel coloured pair of irises. Taking a step back, he takes Wendy in, arms crossed furiously, thick round thighs spread in a defensive stance, cold ivory flesh trembling with rage. Their eyes snap into his and do not move, their pupils are dilating and contracting at a worrying rate. They’re breathing hard through their nose and staring into his face, body tight tight _tight tight_ with emotion, he stutters out a question neither of them hear and they _snarl_ at him.

“How does he kiss you?” Kyle suddenly feels all fear and confusion slough off his body like shears of ice from a glacier, replaced with a cool kind of indifference. He walks back into the bathroom and shuts off the water, letting them stand there for almost a full minute before deigning to answer. He knows exactly who they’re talking about when he says nonchalantly,

“Who?” Wendy raises their fingertips to their temples, eyes closing and breath steadying. His own eyes track the movement and he realizes with a jolt that their hair has been cut, the thick inky locks curling in flyaways and thick chunks blasted around their face in a halo of charcoal crosshatch against marble cheekbones and Kyle is a man _possessed,_ body actually moving forward of its own accord before he catches himself. Wendy steps forward too, clearly taking it as a challenge. Their eyes are burning into Kyle’s soul, making scorched grooves over his skin like a magnifying glass in the sun over a slab of wood. Kyle freezes and stands, empty-handed and defenseless under their gaze.

“I know he kisses you. I’ve seen it. How does he do it?”

“What-“

“Is it the same way he kisses me?” Kyle is taken aback- what kind of question is that? His eyes slide over their face, lips thin streaks of maroon gloss torn down into a scowl, round nose made rounder with flared nostrils, brecciated shards of kobicha in umber irises pierce his heart and he’s dying he’s dying he’s dying here and instead of anything else, _literally anything else he says_

 “I can show you.”

The silence is utterly fucking unbearable. Wendy is Bernini’s best marble work, still in high-cheekboned, cool-toned and thoughtful posture. Wendy takes three long steps into Kyle’s face and _spits_ ,

“You’d fucking better do something, _kosher boy_ , I’m not pissing around.” And Kyle, pissed beyond belief and snarls straight into what he will swear was a trap afterward. He snatches them by the shoulders, a motion amplified by their proximity and leans down to their face, he can see their skin twitch at the breath ghosting over their mouth and whispers,

“It’s _not_ what you think.” His grip loosens on their shoulders and his head falls to his right shoulder. Wendy’s breath stills and they blink: they weren’t expecting this. Kyle presses his mouth to their cheek, soft and caring. He’s letting himself channel his inner Stan, he’s pulling all the security and comfort and reassurance and relief he and Stan have shared since childhood from low in his stomach and letting it flood through him and onto Wendy’s skin. It’s been twenty two years of constant support and _love_ between them, shared though kisses and hugs and too-long touches and eyes meeting over heads in filled rooms.

Kyle recalls specific incidents; the way Stan pressed his mouth to Kyle’s cheek when they were sitting on his floor playing video games at fifteen and Stan won a round for the first time, or when doing homework in Kenny’s shitty basement and they’d completed a project that’d been hanging over their head for weeks; to Kyle’s neck after a long, emotional 2am conversation on Kyle’s bed at eighteen about growing up, finding themselves and the deep-seated fear of out-growing one another was sated, to his ear when Kyle dropped him off at the bowling alley for his fifth first-date with Wendy when he’d told his parents they were going to look at a university; to the top of his head when Stan sprinted out of their shitty shared apartment, late for class at twenty with the sandwich Kyle’d made carefully wrapped and clutched in his hand.

Kyle feels something in his chest open up and loosen as he mirrors these things, as he finally shares the abundance of uncommonly intense expressions of love with someone else, someone he _trusts_. And he does trust Wendy, he finds- he trusts them because he _knows_ them and because they know him; throughout childhood and adolescence and now into adulthood they’d been connected by a drive to better the world around them, by intelligence and academic success, by Stan.

And that’s what it all comes down to, in the end. In the end, Stan has connected them as something inherently more than partners in rallies and academic rivals. Stan has connected them as friends by proximity, has connected them as close friends by dragging them both to things they hate, by being himself Kyle and Wendy have bonded. Kyle pulls away, dragging behind him the thick scent of emotional weight, dampening the air and straining the eye contact.

“It’s not the same,” Kyle croaks. Wendy says nothing, staring up and up and up into his face. Kyle swallows and steps back, unsure of himself and his place in Wendy’s life, suddenly. Wendy’s eyes track his movements, and then they whisper,

“Only technically.” Kyle’s brow furrows. What the fuck does that mean? Wendy stalks forward, torso tilted forward, full of purpose, into Kyle’s chest, into Kyle’s arms. They wrap their hands over Kyle’s shoulders and he stoops down to them. Wendy’s pupils are blown open and they rock back and forth a little- their knees are locked. Kyle lets his forearms tentatively rest over the small of their back, increasing the pressure there minutely when they don’t pull away. He settles his forehead on theirs and he whispers,

“What?” Wendy tips their head forward, further pressing their brow to Kyle’s.

“It’s only different technically.”

“Show me?” And that’s the most emotionally laden sentence Kyle thinks he’s ever spoken, because it’s soaked in love for Wendy and love for Stan, it’s _saturated_ with double the amount of hot hot _hot_ adoration; he’s drowning in fondness and tenderness and coffee eyes. Wendy pulls their arms up and Kyle juts his hips forward, doing his best to close the height difference with Wendy on their toes. Wendy tangles their fingers into Kyle’s thick curls and carefully pulls his head just forward to meet their lips. Their eyes are sharp- _concentrating-_ and Kyle lets his own fall shut. Kyle breathes in just as they exhale, both moving closer and tightening grips. Kyle feels uncomfortable, suddenly, and so does Wendy. He opens his eyes and they lock gazes. He’s understanding what she’s trying to show him, but only because he’s already felt it. If this was Stan, Wendy would be breathing into his mouth and giggling. If this was Stan, Kyle wouldn’t be slouched like this, would be grinning and having a full conversation through body language and eye contact. If this was Stan, they’d feel the right things.

But it’s not Stan, it’s Kyle and it’s Wendy and it’s all wrong- are they fighting over him? Are they cheating on him? Kyle is dying to pull away but he won’t until Wendy understands so he doesn’t have to voice his concern. Maybe if they never vocally acknowledges this, they can pretend it never happened. Wendy breaks off, stepping back and letting their hands fall to Kyle’s hips, over the blue towel still wrapped firmly around his waist. Kyle’s arms raise to rest on his head and he lets his head tip back. He breathes deeply through his nose, eyes burning behind his lids and body stretching back upwards.

Wendy balls their fists and places them over Kyle’s chest. They lean into him and he lets his arms fall again, over their shoulders as they breathe against his stomach. Kyle loves them, he really does. But he can’t give them what Stan does, and he doesn’t _want_ to take them away from him. Wendy takes a deep, shuddering breath and pulls back. Kyle stares into confused amber rings and straightens his back. He knows Wendy’s confused, he knows they’re nervous and the complex situation is stressing them out. Kyle stoops down and locks his arms under Wendy’s ass, pulling them up against his chest. Wendy wraps their arms around the back of his neck and gazes down at him.

His breath catches in his throat and Wendy pitches forward to press their lips against his nose. They pull back and ask him if he’s alright. Kyle answers with a nuzzling nip at the column of their throat. Wendy shifts in his arms, kissing at his widow’s peak as Kyle backs up. He drops to the bed and Wendy tucks their calves under their thighs, pushing up for leverage as Kyle presses his long nose into their jugular. He lets his tongue lave over their collar, they taste like sweat and they smell like cherries and their hands are clutching at the back of his head and Kyle is _in love_ , he knows this isn’t his to take but he’s taking it anyway; the kisses and the hair-pulling and the warmth and the closeness and the trust and his eyes are prickling and Wendy is biting at his shoulder and his hands are gripping at their ass and they pull away to look him in the face and-

“In general, third parties provide a useful service in interstate conflict management. However, not all third parties equally benefit the bargaining process.” Kyle freezes.

“Is that- Is that from my Comparative Local Government paper?” Wendy blushes.

“I thought it was a really good opening line for your fifth point.” Kyle loses his fucking mind. He takes their face into his hands and knocks their forehead to his.

“Wendy,” his voice is shaking, his hands are shaking, he is an earthquake of emotion and his quivering heart is shattering his ribs with every pump. “Can I touch you?” Wendy is flushed and sweating, the ring of moisture around their face plastering the edges of their hair to their forehead and cheeks.

“Yeah,” Wendy breathes, lifting six inches off Kyle’s lap to pull their shirt off. His hands follow the shirt as it’s tugged up the long, soft torso in front of him, carving up towards small, spreading breasts. They hold the cherry material tucked over their forearms, resting on their head, and Kyle is staring up at a thick, round torso, his hands spread and warming the skin just below their armpits. Kyle slides the hands closer, rests the thumbs under the weight of their chest. He leans forward and presses his nose, his mouth to the stretch of flesh between them, careful and tentative until Wendy twists their fingers into his hair, holding him close.

Kyle lets his mouth fall open, Wendy pushes their chest forward and he licks a stripe up to their throat. Kyle sucks into the base of their jaw to the sound of their heavy breaths and his hands sliding down to the hem of their jeans. Wendy tosses the shirt off somewhere behind them and wraps their arms back around Kyle’s head. Kyle brushes his fingers over the button on Wendy’s jeans and looks up to them. Wendy lets themself fall to their left, crashing into the pillows and stretching their arms out for Kyle. Kyle grips the tuck of his towel and hauls his legs up onto the bed in front of him.

Wendy sits up half way and tugs his hand away from the towel and it slides off his back and onto the bed, then the floor beside them. Kyle kneels between Wendy’s thick thighs and digs around his bedside table drawer as they work the button on their jeans. Wendy finally tugs the denim over their ass and Kyle hauls the thing of KY out from under a copy of The Art of War. At the sound of the book hitting the floor, Wendy trades their grip on their pants with Kyle for the fat tube and lifts their head, tucking something between their teeth.

“Is that my book?” Wendy asks around the rubber something, lifting their hips so Kyle can tug the _way too tight, Wendy, what the fuck_ jeans down towards their calves.

“Yeah, you lent it to me like a month ago,” Kyle grunts, sitting back in exhaustion. Wendy starts kicking the pants off their ankles and then _kicking Kyle, ow Wendy, what the fuck-_

“I’ve been _looking_ for that, Kyle, Jesus, how long does it take you to read,” Kyle snickers and grabs their socked feet, holding them to his sides as he presses his nose into their stomach.

“Fuck you, Wendy, it’s hard to read when you’re busy getting an 85 on the Radical Political Thought midterm-“ he sucks a spot into the soft, malleable flesh below their belly button.

“Shut the fuck up! I was sick for the fucking lab and you know it! 81 is nothing to be ashamed of Kyle _fuck you-“_ Wendy pulls their legs up and Kyle follows, hands running down stretched calves and resting on taut thighs. Wendy snatches at the waistband of their underwear, vigorously yanking them over their ass with a snarl. Kyle tugs the rubber something, that turns out to be a silicone cock ring, from between their teeth.

“And I joined the class eight classes late! No excuses, Testaburger-“ Kyle takes the underwear from them and pulls them the rest of the way off Wendy’s calves, throwing them behind him towards their shirt and jeans. Wendy’s legs fall to the bed on either side of Kyle, knees bent and pointing decidedly outwards.  They’re fiddling with the KY when they growl,

“No excuses? Of course! You missed the movie we were going to see to hang out with Stan, you missed the study session to go to Ike’s whatever, you skipped class to hang out at the fucking park but no fucking _excuses_ -“ Wendy cuts themself off with a shuddering gasp when Kyle pitches forward and licks a long, hot line from their hole to their clit. Wendy’s hands snatch at Kyle’s hair and _press_ him into them. He lets his tongue explore, circling their clit gently and flicking at its tip. His hands find Wendy’s breasts and he pinches at their nipples, tugging and rolling and enjoying the way they squirm. Kyle surfaces with a shit-eating grin and a pop from where he pulled off without releasing the suction from their clit and barks out a laugh.

“Okay, first of all _-_ “ “ _Kyle!”_ “ _First of all, Wendy,_ I missed the movie because Stan had to take Sparky to the vet and you hate the vet,” Kyle ignores their pleading, he ignores their whimpers and bucking, he ignores the way they’re scrabbling at his chest, unable to get a grip anywhere.

“Second,” he says to the sound of them keening and panting. “It was Ike’s first basketball game, I wasn’t missing that and I _told_ you where I was going-“ Wendy pitches up and grabs his hair, falling back into the pillows and taking him with them. He’s millimeters from their face when they growl,

“Kyle if you don’t put your face back where it came from so help me God-“

“Third,” he breathes, mouth brushing theirs. “I skipped class to go to the park _with you.”_ And with that Kyle slides down, out of their grasp and into the sea of dark inky hair swept between their legs. Wendy throws their head back as Kyle delves back between their lips, running the flat of his tongue over their fat little clitoris, rubbing it back into the bone and swirling under the hood. Wendy is yelping, squirming and tossing, and it’s doing things to Kyle he could detail for hours in a log entry.

Wendy’s voice raises decibel by decibel, and they’re practically sobbing by the time Kyle lets one hand slide up their hip and into an open palm by their elbow. He feels them grip his hand, slick with the jelly. Kyle rubs it between his fingers and pulls it down with his own. Wendy presses their fingers to their clit and rubs in quick, brutal circles. Kyle grabs at their wrist and they slow with a keen. Kyle slides a finger into Wendy’s hole and curls it upwards, towards their stomach. He’s tucked in on himself, and it’s rather uncomfortable, but Wendy might actually be crying and they keep moaning his name so at the moment, he thinks if his heart explodes and he does die, this is a great way to go. Kyle comes up for air and Wendy’s right hand falls from his hair to his neck.

They drag him down for a long, deep kiss, and he’s sort of apologetic that he didn’t wipe his mouth but with one hand balancing him on the headboard and one hand buried two fingers deep in Wendy’s vagina he figures they can handle a little of their own body. Wendy groans into his mouth and he swallows it. Wendy’s left hand shoots up to his back and Kyle slides off their mouth, whispering into their ear,

“The features of a conflict management forum, which include decision control, transparency, and distributional biases, directly affect the outcome and long-term viability of negotiated settlements.” Wendy freezes, still gripping at his back with bruising force and pressing two fingers into their clit.

“What?”

“The features of a conflict management forum, which include decision control, transparency, and distributional biases, directly affect the outcome and long-term viability of negotiated settlements.” Wendy stares into his eyes, into his soul, mouthing along the words. They smack him on the back suddenly, open palm.

“Is that from my fucking thesis paper?” Kyle grins and presses his face into their neck. Wendy laughs wetly.

“When did you read that?”

“You left it in my textbook after the Starbucks date,” Kyle murmurs.

“Date?”

“Study session, whatever.” This seems to awaken something in them, because they lift away from Kyle’s head. He raises himself up to look at them and they’re soulful and worried.

“Stan,” they murmur. Kyle sits back and raises his face to the ceiling. _Stan._ He loves him. Kyle loves him so much. He loves Wendy, too. He loves them both and it hurts him because he feels left out. Wendy puts their hand on his chest. He looks back down into their eyes.

“Can I tell you something?” Kyle nods. “Stan wants to fuck you,” they say. They spit it out like it’s dust on the wind, like it’s nothing.

“Say again?”

“Stan. He wants to fuck you. Kind of.”

“Okay, Wendy, I respect you as a person and as an intellectual, but what in the actual fuck are you saying here?” Wendy sighs deeply, wraps their right hand around the back of Kyle’s neck and rolls their eyes.

“When Stan and I have sex,” they begin. Kyle wants to pull away but he’ll die if he can’t touch Wendy right now, when they’re talking about this. “I fuck him. Sometimes he’ll take over, but not often. I don’t mind, I really like pegging him, honestly, but it’s nice to get fucked once in a while, you know?” Kyle actually does not know, and he feels like he’s in some sort of surreal alternate universe where he can talk to Wendy about how they have sex with their boyfriend while he’s two fingers deep in them. He tries to pull his fingers away but Wendy tugs on his neck.

“No, don’t do that. Anyway,” like he’s a minor inconvenience trying to have a serious conversation with them without actually being inside of them. “He’s been thinking of asking you to do him for a while, he really likes your dick, but he doesn’t want to like ruin things and he’s not sure how to ask, and he wanted to ask you to do me, but he wasn’t sure if you were into that,” Wendy rolls their eyes and drags out those three points like it’s the most tedious thing they’ve ever had to explain. Kyle shifts between their legs.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, of course. He’d pay to see this.” Wendy gestures between them. Kyle feels his mind whirling. _Stan wants this, Stan would pay to see this, Stan loves him-_ Kyle tries not to get ahead of himself.

“Does he like me? Do you like me?”

“He loves you. I love you. _We_ love you.” Kyle feels impetuousness bubbling under his skin.

“But do you like, like-like me?” Wendy’s head falls to their shoulder and their eyes are blank.

“Kyle. You and I are about to make sweet sweet love. Please pay attention.”

“Yeah, okay, but is it like pity-sex or-”

“Kyle.”

“Okay, yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay. Yeah, yeah okay. Okay, yeah-”

“ _Kyle._ ”

“Yeah?”

“ _Please_ finish fucking me.”

“Shit, okay,” he murmurs, scissoring his fingers twice. Wendy groans and spreads their legs, eyes falling shut and head tipping back. Kyle pulls his hand away, and his fingers are _disgustingly_ pruny and white. Wendy’s eyes flash open and they bark out a laugh.

“Wait, where’s the, uh,” Wendy sits up and starts rifling through the comforter beneath them.

“This?” Kyle holds up the ring, that he’d wrapped around his middle finger for safe keeping.

“Yeah,” Wendy breathes. “Put that on.”

“What? No way, why?”

“Uh? Because I want to have sex with you Kyle put it on-“

“This isn’t a condom, Wendy-“

“I know that! But I don’t want you to, you know-“ they gesture helplessly at Kyle’s semi-erect dick.

“Wendy, I do _not_ have a problem with premature ejaculation.”

“I didn’t say you did!”

Then what are you saying, Wendy, because it sounds like-“

“Kyle, I’m telling you, you’re not gonna last.”

“What? Of course I am-“

“I’m not taking any chances, kosher boy. Put it on.”

Kyle frowns.

“Are there like, instructions?”

“Shit, yeah. Hang on.” Wendy pitches up and reaches for their jeans, which are much too far away. Kyle slides off the bed, cock rapidly falling flaccid with the tediousness of it all. He snatches up the jeans and digs through the pockets, fishing out a small, squashed folded bit of paper. Kyle glances through them quickly, they’re in Spanish. He flips the paper over. French. Fuck him. He starts walking back to the bed, eyes still downcast as he unfolds layer after layer of foreign tongue. By the time his thighs hit the mattress, he’s drowned in the entire world’s supply of languages. The innermost page, however, is English, and all it tells him to do (fuck) is roll it over his dick while it’s flaccid, tug on a condom when it’s hard and use lube. There’s a thousand warnings about size but the raised print on the little thing reads XL and Kyle is pretty sure that’ll keep him covered. That’s it.

He makes a little “huh” sound and Wendy takes in a sharp breath. His eyes flash up to theirs and he’s met with the most important sight of his life. Wendy is laying there, spread-eagled in all their glory, completely nude and gazing at him.

Chocolate eyes rove over his skin like headlamps and Kyle is fixated on the pink of their little tongue as it drags over their bottom lip, leading the way for sharp little teeth to catch afterwards. Wendy is staring at him with full eyes, a full face, a full heart- Kyle _knows_ they love him by the way their cheeks are flushed and the way they are silent now, allowing him tranquility in his acquisition of knowledge. He feels it radiating from their skin, warm and _so_ full, and Kyle feels like he’ll never be alone again.

He rolls the fucking thing over his cock and snatches it into his hand. Kyle scowls and squelches out the giggle by pressing his thumb flatly into the clit, under the hood, and rubbing relentless circles. Wendy’s back arches and they bang their head against the headboard.

“Shit!” Kyle hisses, left hand shooting up to cradle their head. Wendy barely notices, legs lifting and dropping and widening and trying to cross at the knee over his hand at Kyle’s ministrations. Wendy is moaning with their mouth pressed into a thin line, occasionally throwing in little high-pitched “mmhm!”s and Kyle is very concerned about Wendy’s health but definitely not about to stop. Wendy is tossing and bucking wildly and in the light of the window, their skin flashes an almost chrome rose gold.

The hand Kyle has wrapped in thick charcoal is going numb and his right tricep is starting to ache and his cock is heavy and dripping but he can’t tear his eyes away from Wendy’s face. Their eyes are screwed shut in ecstasy and their breasts are heaving under laboured breaths. Kyle presses his lips to one firm puce bud, enamoured by the tiny white-peaked Montgomery glands and little dark hairs protruding from the soft dusty-rose disc. Wendy shudders and groans out his name, so of course Kyle has to press his shrivelled and pale middle and forefinger back into Wendy’s dripping, spasming hole. Kyle tickles around inside them, dragging low cries from the back of Wendy’s throat with each pull of his mouth. Wendy’s hand crashes down over his thumb and Kyle pulls off their breast with a wet, slurping pop. Wendy is basically yelling at this point, telling him _not to stop, not to ever, ever stop, Kyle, fuck fuck fuck-_ Wendy is vigorously rubbing circles into their hood, pressing the tender, swollen flesh down into Kyle’s thumb as it revolves around their clit, around their urethra, _into the clit, fuck fuck fuck fuck **fuck**_ **_Kyle-_**

When Kyle snatches their wrist and yanks it above their head, the replying wail is deafening. Kyle sits back with a sloppily hidden grin and Wendy flails on the bed below him. They shove their hips up, meeting nothing, of course, because Kyle is a shithead, and all they can really do is wait while Kyle tugs the condom from the desk drawer on. Wendy groans in frustration and jerks their hips around, trying to rub against Kyle’s leg when he fumbles single-handedly with the rubber, but Kyle puts it between his teeth _carefully Jesus,_ drops their wrist and catches Wendy’s right leg, sweeping it up over his shoulder.

Kyle grabs both of Wendy’s wrists with his left hand and pins them up, at the top of the headboard. Kyle finally gets the fucking condom on, _fuck that thing,_ and settles between her legs, one hand holding his cock steady. He looks up into Wendy’s eyes and is met with black-smudged lids. Kyle leans forward, carefully keeping his dick off them, and hovers over them, almost nervous now. Wendy’s eyes open and they stare at each other for a beat.

“Would you mind if I-“

“Kyle. Put that inside of me immediately.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _What part of immediately do you not-“_ Kyle presses the head of his cock between Wendy’s outer lips, running it up and down, over their clit, under the hood, lingering over the hole and resting gently against their perineum. Wendy squirms, pulling down on the leg next to his ear, and Kyle snarls. He grabs their left leg and throws that up and over his shoulder too. Wendy strains, panting.

“ _Kyle, come on!”_ Kyle tuts.

“Are you always this impatient?” His eyes roam, dragging over their tormented, twisted face, over their thick, _short_ hair, he really likes it, actually, he thinks it looks great, smoothing over their neck, over their blotchy chest and over little red bumps and whiteheads where their bra straps dig into their shoulders. It looks painful, and Kyle can honestly appreciate that Wendy’d stopped wearing a bra altogether when it got too bad. Kyle presses a kiss to the worst of the red splotches, trailing his lips over their hidden collarbones and up under their jaw.

Wendy ducks under his nose and kisses his mouth, running their tongue over his lips. He opens, and he lets them lick into his mouth, tasting his tongue and running over his palate. His own tongue circles the intruding one in his mouth, pressing over top of it and running along behind Wendy’s top front teeth. The most obscene noise separates them, and Kyle wipes his mouth with his free hand. Wendy jerks around in his grip, and Kyle carefully wipes around their mouth, too. They raise their head to his touch, and their eyes are heavy and lidded. He tastes strawberry on his lips and knows their lip gloss is as smeared over his lips as it is theirs.

Wendy’s exceptionally slick, saliva-laden lips separate, two strings of spit attaching them even as she moans Kyle’s name. Kyle’s free hand presses into the pillow beside their head and he slides his cock up and into the tight little tunnel presented to him. Wendy throws their head back and _shrieks_ , and Kyle freezes, releasing his grip on their wrists and grabbing their hips.

“ _Wendy, what-“_ Wendy takes a deep breath, hands not moving from their crossed position above their head. Their eyes connect with his and they are _furious._

“Kyle. It occurs to me that we should have gone over this beforehand, because I think I might have to actually kill you. If I want you to stop, I will tell you to stop. Until I specifically tell you to stop, I want you to _fuck me hard like I deserve.”_ Kyle jumps, and snatches their wrists back up. Wendy’s head drops back into the pillows and they let out a low “mmmm.”

Kyle pulls his cock almost all the way out and slowly feeds it back in, feeling Wendy’s walls adjust and conform to his penis. As he lets his hips find their rhythm, Kyle leans down on his left elbow, hand still gripping Wendy’s wrists. He glances up and checks their fingers- he’s stupidly afraid of cutting off too much circulation- and lets his right hand slide flat over their pudgy stomach, playing around the bellybutton and sliding, open-palm, over their pubic mound.

The coarse hairs tickle his palm and he finds himself enamoured, feeling them curl and stick into his hand. He slides his thumb down between their lips, over their hood, and teases it up and down, pulling the hood back _gently gently gently_ and letting it fall. It’s mostly retracted now anyway, but he still likes messing with Wendy.

They’re arching on the mattress, calling his name, and it’s doing a lot for Kyle. He likes the way they whimper when he’s at the peak of pulling out, like they’re afraid he won’t push back in. Wendy is groaning at him, begging him to go faster, begging him to let go, but he doesn’t because it’s the breathless kind of begging, and he hasn’t head them say stop. He’s listening, though. He’s listening.

Kyle slows, and Wendy yells, when he finally comes to a halt there are tears burning at their eyes. He releases their wrists and shrugs their legs off his shoulders, to his hips. Kyle tugs out and leans down, kissing Wendy gently. He’s aching, he wants nothing more than to finish with them, than to fuck them all the way to completion, but he’s not about to let Wendy get what they want that easily. Kyle pats their hip. Wendy looks up to him.

“Roll over for me?”

“Oooh, _kinky,”_ they grin, turning over to their stomach and pushing up onto hands and knees.

“Like this, Mr. Broflovski?” they giggle. Kyle snorts.

“Drop the arms,” he murmurs, rubbing into their back gently. Wendy drops to their elbows and they look over their shoulder, ass swinging a little.

“How’s this, _sir?_ ” Kyle grunts. He knows they’re just playing with him, but he’s really liking this, actually. He spreads their ass with a thick, calloused hand on each cheek and buries his nose into their perineum, letting his tongue lave deeply over their inner lips. Wendy grinds out a ragged

“Fuck,” and Kyle pulls back. He squeezes their ass and murmurs into their neck,

“That’s not my name, Mx. Testaburger.” Wendy calls out and raises their ass, panting and broken.

“ _Kyle!”_ Kyle tuts, squeezing harder and tugging.

“Sir?” Wendy cries, desperation written all over their face, straining to see Kyle kneeling on the bed behind them. The edges of Kyle’s vision darken and something strained in his chest breaks loose. That’s exactly what he wanted to hear. Kyle slides home into them and Wendy’s head drops to the pillows, breathing a barely constrained “Thank you, thank you, thank you-“ And here, Kyle sets a brutal pace, hips snapping into the flesh of their ass, arm looped around their right thigh and fingers curling back into the warm, slick hood. Wendy shrieks and shoves back, yelling his name and crying out in the affirmative.

Kyle’s free hand slithers down their back and snatches up a fistful of hair, tugging lightly, experimentally at first. Wendy responds, throwing their head back and _wailing_ , so Kyle tightens his grip and leans back, still fucking into Wendy at a vicious pace. In public interactions, Kyle is usually hotheaded and emotional, laughing a little too loud and speaking up a little too often, but it’s part of the charm, really.

Here, though, Kyle is heartless. He’s pitiless, animalistic and visceral. His teeth are sharper than his words have ever been and his fingers leave blossoming bruises in too-soft hips. He’s taking what Wendy is offering, no questions asked, no words of thanks. Wendy is his now. Kyle sucks long, sore hickeys into Wendy’s back, leaving inflamed ovals just above their ass, along their spine, he is marking them as his and when Stan comes home, when Stan goes to take Wendy, to let Wendy take him, he’ll see that Kyle was there.

Kyle grins at the thought, pressing his teeth into Wendy’s spine as he listens to their back creak. Wendy is outright sobbing now, bubbling the occasional broken, drawn out little “yee-ees” like it’s their job. Kyle hears the door at the end of the hallway slam again and considers stopping, going outside to see if the guys next door needed any help moving, leaving Wendy here on his bed, a soaking, worn out and unfinished mess, but he actually really likes Wendy and he really likes having sex with them, actually, and that’s kind of mean, so maybe next time. They’ll talk about it beforehand, next time. He feels Wendy’s sloppy little hole start to contract and tightens his grip on their hair, tugging their head back and flattening his chest against their spine, hissing into their ear.

“Who do you belong to?”

“ _You, Kyle, fu- f- fuck, **Kyle-**_ “

“Me? Am I the one you’ve been fucking for eight months a year every year since high school?”

“ ** _Fuck, Kyle, you and Stan, Stan, fuck_** -“

Kyle releases their hair and pulls almost all the way out, ceasing his circling around their sore, swollen clit and Wendy almost collapses, begging him to finish them, _please-_

The bedroom door kicks open. Wendy freezes, ass high in the air, touching the lip of Kyle’s cock, mouth open and drooling onto the duvet, arms sprawled out in front. Kyle freezes, hands gripping Wendy’s hip and crotch, head of his penis brushing the very slick, very used hole just ahead. Stan stands, frozen in the doorway, having just heard his name called by his long-term on-again off-again datefriend of what feels like forever, staring at his best friend naked, behind them. Stan drops his duffel bag, crosses his arms, raises his eyebrows and leans against the doorframe.

“You called, Wendy?” Kyle backs up, spirit descending back into his body, and moves to clear the area.

“No no, Kyle, please. Finish what you were doing.” Stan gestures at Wendy’s still-raised ass, rivulets of precome dribbling down their outer lips. Wendy groans.

“Stan,” they sigh. “I told him. I told you he’d be into it.” Kyle eyes him warily. They’re close, but he wasn’t sure they’re this close. Stan breathes deeply through his nose, eyes drifting shut for a moment.

“Wendy,” he starts, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wanted to tell him. What if he didn’t take it well?”

“Then I could have said I was just messing with him!”

“Wendy, come on, that’s not what we talked about-“

“Okay, but are you mad?”

“Wendy that’s not the point-“

“Stanley. I am face down, ass up on Kyle’s bed, getting nailed properly for the first time in my life, it feels like. If you want to be useless, then go into the living room and wait for us. If you want to get fucked, strip and get over here. Those are your options. You said you wanted this and I have been trying to come all fucking day,” they finish, eyes closing and ass wiggling at Kyle.

“Come on, kosher boy.” Stan looks at Kyle, shaking his head.

“Can you believe them?” Kyle blinks at him, boner still helpfully waving in the wind or whatever.

“Are you okay?” Stan asks, eyes meaningful and honest.

“Are _you_ okay?” Kyle counters in disbelief. “Is this real? Can I do this? Do you want this?” Stan shrugs and drops his head.

“I was going to ask you,” he murmurs, adding with a sharp glance, “When I got _back.”_ Wendy grins lazily and pops their ass up, fingers starting to slide between their legs. Kyle catches the hand and tosses it back towards Wendy’s face. He presses his three last fingers into their slick hole and lets his forefinger curve over their clit, pressing down but unmoving. Wendy groans under him and Kyle can see Stan’s cock jump in his basketball shorts.

“Do you like this, Stan?” Kyle asks, tickling around inside Wendy.

“Only if you do, dude.” Stan responds, gripping his now-heavy crotch. Kyle pulls the Wendy-slick fingers out of the warm body beneath him and lifts them to his mouth, running his fat, pink tongue over the digits slowly. He leaves it at one, long lick from his wrist to the tip of the middle finger, letting the hand fall to grip at Wendy’s hip. Stan groans and Wendy whimpers. Kyle grins. He slides back into Wendy’s hole, now soft and still slick, but a little tighter and probably less sore. Kyle lets his eyes shut briefly, letting the heat encompass him completely.

When he reopens his eyes, Stan is standing closer to the bed, fingers brushing the footboard, naked except for a pair of briefs. Kyle feels his face stretch again into a wide smirk and Stan eyes him, a small, unsure smile pulling on his own lips. Kyle tugs at Wendy’s shoulders and they shove up, held steady by Kyle’s long, calloused fingers. Wendy settles back against his chest, balancing for a moment, still full of Kyle’s thick cock. Wendy tips their head back to Kyle’s shoulder, groaning into his mouth as he kisses them, long and sloppy. His fingers wedge themselves back in between their fat lips and finds the aching, tingling little clit again. He coaxes it gently, staring Stan in the eye as he thrusts up quickly, shallowly

“Oh, _fuck_ yeah,” Wendy groans, and Kyle’s hand freezes.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, voice pitching up and left hand twiddling with their nipple.

“Yes, sir,” Wendy moans obediently, eyes falling open to stare dolefully at Stan. Stan shoves his hand into his briefs, grips his cock-half hard- and grunts. Kyle’s own dick is still rock solid, dark red and raw, pumping in and out of Wendy like it’s a Saturday afternoon in his best dreams. Stan hovers, frozen and fixated while Kyle tweaks at Wendy’s nipple, making them croak out a broken “Ye-yes _sir-_ “

Stan’s eyes roll back in his head and he’s not just nudging at his dick anymore, he’s pulling it out and tugging at its tip. Kyle leans back, pushing himself further into Wendy and ruffing through the bottom drawer of his bedside table. Wendy bounces a little, trying to keep it going as Kyle pulls out the strap-on Wendy left between the couch cushions within the first week of the boys moving in to this apartment. At the time, he’d been mortified, and hadn’t known how to bring it up, but now he was just happy he’d kept it. Wendy wobbles and Kyle’s arm snaps back around their waist and they glance down.

“Kyle! You thief! I looked for that for months!” Kyle grins against Wendy’s ear, hot with embarrassment.

“No, you left it here and I didn’t know what to do with it,” he corrects them, pressing a finger  a little further back and feeling Wendy’s legs start to shake. Kyle pulls about half way out and sits back on his calves. Stan is staring at them, eyes drooping and mouth slack, one corner of his lips slick with drool down to his chin. Stan swallows heavily and Kyle stares him in the face, handling the strap-on with long, uncertain fingers. Wendy’s thighs part a little more and Kyle slides the base of the thing to their front. Wendy starts the buckling process and Kyle finds he still fits behind it. Pleased with himself, he thrusts up, the most disgusting sounds filling the air and tugging at the corners of his lips. Stan jerks forward and collapses onto the bed, crawling toward them on his hands and knees. He really likes this. Wendy tugs the strap tight around their waist and pats their knees, beckoning Stan closer. The arm Kyle has wrapped around Wendy’s waist tightens and he tugs them closer to the edge of the bed with him, making room for Stan to get around them. Stan crawls in front of Wendy, heavy cock peeking out of the top of his boxers, and falls face first in front of them, presenting his ass to Wendy. Wendy tips their head back and looks at Kyle with a filthy smirk.

“See? He knows what he’s good for.” Kyle smirks and slows his rhythm to just a shallow snapping of hips, head just inside. Wendy peels the briefs off Stan’s ass and slaps his cheeks, squeezing them and pulling them apart.

“Good boy, Stanley. Go on,” they murmur, and Kyle slips them the tube of KY. Instead of squirting some onto their hands, though, Wendy pops the top and hands it to Stan between his legs. He takes it and slicks up his first three fingers on his right hand. He reaches over his ass and hooks one finger into himself, groaning. Wendy keeps their hands on his ass, keeping the cheeks apart for him and leaving little half-moons where their dark red acrylics dig into the hairy flesh.

Kyle groans at the sight, watching Stan prep himself for Wendy’s cock, laying submissive on his chest and knees in front of them. Kyle reaches down, hips unmoving, and grips his balls, letting his mouth fall to bite gently at the flesh of Wendy’s shoulder. Wendy lets out a deep, hissing breath and nudges Stan’s dark, hairy little hole with the strap-on, pressing in very lightly and very quickly, never going in to even the head but putting enough pressure onto the pulsing little hole that it has Stan grunting. Stan’s grunts turn to impatient little mewls, and he starts pushing his ass back, ready for Wendy to take him. Wendy tuts, rubbing flat hands over his ass, up to his mid-back, scraping their nails down his skin on the way back.

“Come on, Stan, you know what I want to hear.” Stan whimpers, hands lying uselessly below his stomach, cock full and red, heavy in front of his balls.

“Please, Wendy,” he whines, and Wendy’s face stretches into a grin. They centre the head of the cock and press in, gentle but steady. Stan moans, pressing his face into the mattress, ass raising the further in Wendy pushes. When Wendy is fully sheathed, Kyle releases himself and lets his hands slide over the two bodies in front of him, one wrapping around the base of Stan’s penis and one finding the most sensitive part of Wendy’s left nipple. Kyle pulls out of Wendy, almost to the head of his cock, leans into their ear and whispers filthily,

“Fuck yourself on me, Wends.” Wendy’s head jerks forward and they balance themselves on Stan’s round ass, settling onto their knees and breathing heavily.

“Kyle,” they breathe, hips rolling experimentally. Kyle grips at Stan’s cock as he wails, Wendy shoving in and out of him back onto Kyle’s dick, unsure whether to go up and down or forward and back, an uncoordinated mess. Stan’s hips lift and he throws his ass back into the bucking mess behind him, trying to get Wendy’s strap-on to grind over his prostate. Kyle gathers it hits about 75% of the time, judging by the _filthy_ little mewls Stan lets out. Releasing both Stan and Wendy, Kyle presses a hand into Wendy’s back, and after a moment, they lean forward, breasts flattening against Stan’s hairy back. Kyle leans back and fucks into them deeply, cock aching and sore but still _fucking_ hard, god damn it-

Wendy shrieks out Kyle’s name, face shoved hard in between Stan’s shoulder blades as Kyle pistons his hips forwards ceaselessly; they’ve found their clit under the strap-on and have one hand pressed between their legs and one wrapped around Stan’s cock. Wendy grunts animalistically, eyes wet and body shuddering, whimpering broken names of the people around them. Stan’s torso curls and Kyle sees his face, finally: eyes lidded heavily, tears streaming down his cheeks, mouth wide open and drool all over his face. His tongue is lolling out of his mouth and with each of Wendy’s thrusts he’s huffing like the air itself is getting fucked out of his body. Kyle clenches his teeth, cock _throbbing,_ and Stan’s eyes roll back in his head when Wendy’s hand starts pumping at his dick erratically. Stan’s eyes open when Kyle thrusts particularly hard, and cobalt locks with pietersite.

“Kyle, _fuck_ , I love you, _please_ don’t stop, just like that, Kyle, _yeah_ , I like that, mmh, _Wendy right there yes_ , Wendy please, please keep going, I’m your _bitch, I’m your little whore, fuck, **yes**_ , am I doing good? Am I good for you Wendy? Mmh, fuck, _yeah, Kyle, come on,_ ” Stan rambles, mouth running around strings of spit and tears and snot. His eyes are rolling back again and his hips are jerking erratically. Kyle pitches back a little further, looking for Wendy’s sweet spot, and when he finds it, they let him know.

“ ** _Oh, fuck, Kyle, there-_** Don’t stop, Kyle, please, please don’t stop, Stan, fuck, Stan, that’s right, back onto my dick, mmh, yeah, _you’re such a good boy for me Stan, such a good little bitch, yeah, fuck me Kyle, Stan-“_ and after less than thirty seconds Wendy is gripping Stan’s cock hard enough to have him howling their name and pulsing hard around Kyle, flooding his dick with the sticky mucus.

Kyle lets out a long, low groan, letting Wendy collapse in front of him, on top of Stan, quivering and twitching. Kyle pulls out and tugs on Wendy’s hips, pulling them out of Stan with a wet-sounding pop. Stan groans, hole stretched wide and pulsing, still submissive on the bed. Wendy tosses themself to the side, legs spread around Kyle’s thighs and strap-on dripping and sticky. Kyle looks down at them and they have their eyes closed tight, knees pulling together. Stan is heaving in front of him, ass high in the air and legs trembling, cock spent and comforter sticky.

Kyle pitches forward as Stan goes to lower his hips and licks a long, wet stripe from the back of his balls to the end of his ass crack, gripping his thighs and sucking a hickey deep into the flesh of Stan’s right cheek. Stan lets out a low whine and lets Kyle push him over, tipping him down next to Wendy and stooping to leave a wet kiss just under each of their navels. Wendy groans, sore and spent, and lets a hand drift up to finger at the tip of Kyle’s still painfully hard cock. Stan’s eyes snap to the movement and he lets his head fallback, settling into the pillows under him and smacking his chest with two open palms.

Kyle grins and lets Wendy finish unclasping the fucking ring, _Jesus Christ, finally,_ and knees up carefully, over sprawled limbs and heaving sides to straddle Stan’s shoulders. Stan reaches up and pulls Kyle’s fat cock perpendicular to the bed, raising his head and wrapping his lips around the head. Thick, tanned fingers meet with Kyle’s own slender, freckled ones and he pulls them to his hair, prompting Kyle to curl the digits into Stan’s dark locks and hold his head steady.

“Fuck his mouth,” Wendy croaks, forearm thrown over their eyes and chest still shuddering with breath. “He likes that.” Kyle glances over his shoulder at the interruption and then back down to meet Stan’s eyes, pupils blown open and mouth practically watering.

“Can I?” Kyle whispers, almost confidentially, reverently. Stan grunts out an “mmhmm” around the pink flesh and Kyle lets his hips slide forward, experimentally letting Stan’s throat open to his cock. Stan’s tongue laves over the tip and swirls under the head, and Kyle is barely restraining himself. Kyle pulls back and watches with sharp, laser focus as Stan carefully breathes through his nose, mouth wide and cheeks hollowing.

Kyle lifts himself up a little, lining his cock better into Stan’s mouth, and slides forward again. Stan grunts, and Kyle’s dick presses into his soft palate with a wet squelching sound. Stan moans and the vibration sends shivers down Kyle’s spine and bolts of electricity down the shaft of his cock, Kyle’s eyes are full of Stan; all clear, blue eyes, red-rimmed after the good fucking he’s gotten, face flushed and fat lips rubbery and slick. Kyle traces the sharp jawbone, dropped and wide around his penis, with his eyes, scraping over Stan’s soft, round nose, full cheeks and wide eyes. Stan’s rough, calloused hands grip at Kyle’s ass, squeezing and rubbing up and down his glutes.

Kyle leans back and starts up a rhythm, holding Stan’s head steady as his hips thrust shallowly into Stan’s constricting throat. As Kyle’s head touches the back of Stan’s tongue and blocks the air momentarily, Stan produces a noise that sounds a lot like he’s gulping, the wet resonance bouncing off the walls of the room and Kyle’s head, sending his eyes rolling and his hips thrusting faster.

When his thighs can barely take it anymore, Kyle takes to using Stan’s hair to guide his head up and down, and Stan’s eyes never ever leave his while he uses Stan’s mouth. Kyle feels fresh sweat beading at his forehead and the closer he gets, the further his head bends forward. He feels heat at his back, and finds Wendy straddling Stan’s hips and pressing into Stan’s back, one arm wrapping around Kyle’s stomach and the other sliding between his legs, fondling his balls.

Kyle’s head snaps back to Wendy’s shoulder and a creaking, broken sound tears out of his throat. Wendy’s hand slides up and tweaks his nipple, tugging lightly on his balls, adding to the sensation of Stan’s chin smacking into them rhythmically. Wendy moans into his ear, pressing their chest forward.

“ _Yes, Mr. Broflovski_ , _thank you,_ ” they murmur, hips pressing into his ass. “It’s so nice of you to do this for us. You have no idea how long we’ve waited for your thick cock-“

“ _Wendy, fuck,”_ Kyle is so close, now, so so close. “ _Stan, baby, yes, you’re such a good boy, fuck yes, well done._ You’re doing so good, baby, so good. Wendy, fuck, pull harder, come on,” Kyle groans, eyes fluttering and hips shoving forward and back erratically, he’s no longer able to regulate it.

His pelvis pushes forward a little too quickly and Stan actually chokes, but grips Kyle’s ass hard and holds him deep in his throat, against his oropharynx, and Kyle can’t hold anything in anymore. His call is a low, resounding groan, breathy and scratchy.

Wendy moans with him, and Kyle can actually feel Stan’s epiglottis at the tip of his cock, rolling around it while Stan does his best to swallow. Kyle stares down at him, slowly pulling his very sore, very spent cock from Stan’s lips, the trail of drool and semen stringing off his cock and dripping down his chin. Wendy falls back, pitching into the mattress and kicking at the covers.

Stan raises his bright red ass while Kyle tries to help clear the disgusting sheets off the bed, getting stuck every so often because he’s kneeling on them. The covers fall off the bed into a heap of rumpled, stained cloth on the floor and Kyle all but collapses between his two new lovers, reaching one long arm over Stan’s deliciously slippery face, snatching the towel from the floor and curling Stan into his arms, practically rolling on top of him to reach it.

Kyle holds the towel to his chest for a moment, laying on his back, exhausted. Three counted breaths later, Kyle pitches up to a sitting position and nudges at Wendy’s legs. They open them up for him, knees bent and back arching, and Kyle slides the towel up from where their ass meets the bed to their bellybutton, collecting the warm, sticky mucus onto the towel. He folds it over and wipes long strokes in where their thighs meet their lips, clearing everything out and patting it all dry. Wendy makes a low “mm” sound as thanks, and Kyle sweeps up to kiss them, long and loving, holding the towel up and away so it’s not touching them.

Wendy settles back and Kyle twists his torso, meeting Stan’s eyes. Stan is looking up at him with such overwhelming adoration, Kyle can barely breathe. His throat constricts and he lets out a broken “Stan,” immediately pressing his lips to Stan’s. Stan, too exhausted to say anything or respond at all, really, lets his mouth fall open and runs his tongue along Kyle’s teeth, over his tongue, exploring the front of his mouth, Kyle pulls away and they’re connected by long,  beaded lines of saliva and semen. Kyle swipes at his mouth and Stan laughs, a croaked “Ew,” coming from someone.

Kyle uses the other half of the towel to wipe carefully at Stan’s mouth, letting the corner of the rough material run over the inside of Stan’s lip, over the corners of his mouth, his nose, his cheeks. Kyle kisses him softly, just a quick press before starting to clean lower, pulling the towel in a scooping motion from his ass to his balls. Kyle wipes reverently over his lower stomach, tugging gently at the pubes and making sure there aren’t any clumps of anything.

He kisses Stan’s limp cock and pats him hard on the thigh before running the now- _disgusting_ towel over his own dick and stomach, clearing all evidence of the _event_ that’d transpired. Condom peeled off and tied and tossed into the waste basket, Kyle throws the towel somewhere else on the floor to join the rest of the clothes and bedding on the floor. Settling in between them, Kyle reaches up and around Stan and Wendy, tugging them both into his sides.

Wendy’s leg immediately shoots up and is thrown over Kyle’s right thigh, tucked under his crotch, and their arms sprawl under his back and over his chest. He knows the one under him will go numb at some point, but Wendy never gives a fuck about that kind of thing. Stan, slower, lethargic and heavy, rolls into his arm, tucking his right leg under Kyle’s and hooking his left foot around Wendy’s right. Stan’s hand works its way into Wendy’s hair and the other arm flattens behind Kyle’s neck. Stan tugs at Wendy’s hair, a very soft “I like this,” escaping him even as he drifts off. Wendy smiles into the side of Kyle’s chest, and Kyle finds himself falling into somewhere dim and warm in his heart as the sun sets outside the window.

“Kyle,” Wendy announces, shattering the silence for a moment. “Be my boyfriend.”

“Okay, Wendy,” Kyle’s voice is scratchy and gruff, his throat is sore. “Yeah.”

“Kyle,” Stan groans from Kyle’s armpit. “We’ve been dating since fourth grade. No homo but I’m in love with you.”

“Okay, Stan. Yeah.”

“Stanley,” Wendy croaks. “We’re together again.”

“Did we break up before?”

“Can’t remember,” they yawn. “Either way.”

“Either way,” Stan repeats, nuzzling in closer to Kyle.

“Either way,”  Kyle echoes softly into the dying golden light. “Yeah. Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks guy


End file.
